As they led Jace through the ship, he looked around. The hallways were bare, and there were at least a couple of sliding doors in each hall. He wondered if they were all slave rooms, or if they were offices like Sean's. the ceiling was low, it barely cleared Alf's head, and the halls could barely fit two of him. Surround them were the hum of engines and life support systems barely loud enough to notice unless you were looking for them. Though it was uniform and drab, it was clean, and everything seemed to be in order. Of course, Jace didn't have much to compare it to considering what he was used to.
They gave Jace a very thorough scrubbing, which meant that they threw him in the equivalent of a hovercar wash, where it was just a bunch of rough, spinning brushes. Luckily they weren't too stiff, so they didn't hurt his head or knock him around too much. Afterward, his head was tightly wrapped and he was dressed in a dull brown jumpsuit with the number "B-513" on it. He was taken back toward his "cell" as he thought of it, however, they didn't go back to the room like he was expecting, as they passed it he panicked, wondering if he was being taken to another room and would never see that man again. He hadn't realized it, but that man had become a lifeline for him, a warm light in this cold world he had been shoved into unexpectantly.
He breathed out in relief when they took him to a well-lit, white-walled room, where there were several rows of tables lined up across the floor. There were several people dressed as he was sitting at the tables, as well as a line of them leading to a hole in the wall where they picked up a segmented tray with sludge in one part and a colorless grey food bar in another, along with uniform fork-spoon combination.
Alf took him to the back of the line then just left him and walked out. Jace awkwardly stood at the back, suffering the curious glances shot his way. He was surprised with how little curiosity there was. Whenever there was some new urchin back home they would be tailed for weeks by different people if they weren't just beaten up for crossing into a gang's territory. Here though was different, most of the people here just focused on their food, not seeming to care about anything else, slowly eating as if in a daze, the only movement he could see was most of them had a nervous twitch, tapping their fingers in irregular order, as they stared off into the distance.
When he reached the front of the line, a tray was carelessly shoved into his hands, and he went and picked a seat. No one seemed to notice. He hesitantly looked at the unfamiliar food, and out of habit smelled it to see if he could smell anything especially fowl coming from it. It had no smell. He hesitantly took a bite, tasting to see if he could taste anything that would make him throw up later. It didn't taste like anything either.
Having tested it to his guttersnipe standards, he began to devour the food. It was more than he'd had in a long time, and it was better than most of the food he'd had before. He quickly cleaned his plate then instinctively looked around to see if there was any other food he could take before he realized he would probably get in trouble if he bothered the other slaves.
As he was glancing around, he made eye contact with a woman across the room from him. She had fiery red hair and a strong but slender build. He was surprised to see someone of her caliber here, her skin was soft, although red from what he recognized from his skin to be freshly scrubbed, so he knew she was as new as him, probably from the same planet. Her hair looked like it had been well taken care of, and she had a firm, straight posture. Her eyes were what drew his attention though, they had a fire. He could see a combination of curiosity and rebelliousness in them, and they met his own eyes fearlessly. He instinctively knew that she was going to be trouble. He quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to be associated with someone who would very obviously cause trouble for herself and anyone involved with her.
He tried to look around, to see if he could find the man who had spoken with him, but since he had only seen a prone outline, there was no way for him to be able to figure out if he was there or not. So he turned back to his food, habitually shrinking in on himself to avoid notice. Although afterward, he would realize they none of the slavers would've cared, they were just cattle to them, they were only providing the bare minimum for them to survive as sell at a decent price, they relying on their technology mostly to keep them in line.
A man was sitting across from him, a bigger guy, scruff on his neck. He would've been intimidating if it weren't for the amount of overpowering sense of control that surrounded them. The man looked at him expectantly, his hand twitching on the table in from of him. Suddenly his look became more intense, and his hand began to twitch slightly more rapidly, his finger skittering across the table with a ๐ต๐ข๐ฑ-๐ต๐ข๐ฑ-๐ต๐ช๐ฑ-๐ต๐ช๐ฑ-๐ต๐ข๐ฑ. Jace tilted his head slightly, confused, and looked at the man, trying to ask him what was going on with his eyes. He wondered for a moment if he was the man he was looking for, but this man's outline was far too bulky. The man finally gave up and looked away from him, exasperated.
He cleaned his plate and sat there for about five minutes when the lights above him flashed orange, then back to white. Everyone stood up and began to single file walk towards the door, disposing of their trays in a hole in the wall by the door that Jace hadn't noticed before. Again he was surprised when they didn't turn towards their cells, but the other direction. They went down the narrow halls and came upon a donut-shaped room, where they began to walk in circles around the room.
Jace was confused, but wasn't one to cause trouble and knew standing out was the first thing that leads to trouble, so he fell into line. He also noticed that as they walked, the spell that had seemed to enthrall the other slaves seemed to break. It was as if everyone has woken up, he saw a couple of smiles, and a few more curious glances were sent his way. ๐๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฅ. he thought as he circled the donut near the center, trying to avoid getting too much attention.
They walked for about a half-hour, then the light above them flashed red briefly just as the other light had flashed orange. Everyone began to file out, and Jace found himself in the center of the pack. A flash of concern flew through his heart when he realized he had no clue what room was his or which bed he was supposed to be in. ๐๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ซ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ญ๐บ ๐ข๐ด๐ด๐ช๐จ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ? No that wouldn't make sense, it'd be terrible for keeping track of everyone. His fear was soothed when he noticed the letters above the door and remembered his number across his chest and back.
He found hall "B", then went down to bunk 513. The lights were on now, so it was pretty easy to find. He saw a spot of blood where his head had rested before his wound was treated. Everyone laid in their bunks, and someone โ not Alf โ came through and refastened their restraints. Jace suddenly remembered to look across from him while the lights were still on. He saw a man, probably about 10 years older than his 15-year-old self. His hair was blonde, and his build was slim, his beard was rough from lack of maintenance, and his face was narrow and thin from lack of more than daily sludge to eat. Not starving or skinny, just hard. The man glanced up at him, then smiled warmly before the room went black.
"The name's Stryker kid. Nice to meet ya."
An involuntary smile crossed Jace's own face, and he laid back, grateful for the cushioning his bandage provided. He closed his eyes, and, surprisingly, felt a sense of peace and security cross over him that he's never felt before. Somehow Stryker's smile had told him "don't worry, everything is going to be all right". Plus here, even though everything was tightly controlled, he didn't have to worry about going hungry, or being in danger. This was very nice. Jace eventually fell into a deep comfortable sleep, not even noticing the hard metal he slept on.